Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Trinidad & Tobago and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Bill Wells to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eli Mardock,
Surgeon,
Franke,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Buckinghams,
The Martian,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Last Poets,
Khruangbin,
Idris Muhammad,
Jeff Mills,
The Pretty Things,
Crime,
Saccharine Trust,
The New Christs,
Sex Pistols,
E-Dancer,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joy Division,
New Age Steppers,
Faraquet,
Parry Music,
Minor Threat,
Intrusion,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Gun Club,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Outsiders,
Soft Cell,
Supertramp,
8 Eyed Spy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Popol Vuh,
The Index,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Anakelly,
Susan Cadogan,
Schoolly D,
Harmonia,
Essential Logic,
Lou Christie,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Misunderstood,
The Sonics,
48th St. Collective,
Con Funk Shun,
London Community Gospel Choir,
U.S. Maple,
Spoonie Gee,
Negative Approach,
Joey Negro,
Sound Behaviour,
Minutemen,
Cameo,
These Immortal Souls,
Massinfluence,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.